


While He Still Knows Who I Am

by sydkn3e



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydkn3e/pseuds/sydkn3e
Summary: A brain injury has Dean once again knocking on Death's door, and this time he's decided to simply accept the fate while Sam and Cas struggle with the ramifications of his decision.Cas discovers that sometimes love is just as painful as loss as he watches the man he loves lose everything he's ever known, including memories of his brother and best friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Angst requested by Bere. WIP fic.  
> Look I'm not familiar with medical terminology or whatever so I did my best with what I could find on the internet.  
> Just suspend your belief a little more than usual.
> 
> Also this work is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own, blah blah blah.

Dr. Robert’s face was illuminated by the brightness of the computer as he pointed at the dark blotches on the screen with the tip of his pen. He shook his head slightly as he viewed the images, peering from over the top of his glasses, which perched on the tip of his nose.

“S’not good, I’m afraid.” He said in a clipped tone, leaning back in his chair and forcing his glasses up on his nose in order to view the men better.

Dean was still sitting on the doctor’s table, his legs hanging off the side. He gave a charismatic smile and leaned back as well, his hands resting on the table behind him for support.

“So what are you trying to say, doc?” He asked playfully. “I’m gonna be okay. Right?”

Cas stood expressionless, already knowing the doctor’s answer. Sam took deep but silent breaths, watching the doctor with fearful anticipation.

“Son, injuries like this…” the doctor scoffed, indicating the pictures of Dean’s brain on the computer screen, “..people don’t just hop back up from this sort of thing. Now, I knew your daddy, and I know what sorts of things you boys do, but you gotta understand…”

He paused, looking back and forth between the three men, then sighed, sitting straight back up in his chair. He pointed his pen at the images again. “Here, see this? These spots? That’s bruising, son. And it’s covering the majority of your brain. It’s amazing to me that you’re walking and talking right now. To be honest, I don’t fully understand how this damage could possibly be consistent with your injury. The damage appears to have progressed to a stage that normally wouldn’t be seen for several years.” The doctor paused again, shaking his head incredulously. “I just can’t explain it.”

“But I feel fine.” Dean insisted, stubborn as ever. “I mean, my head hurts a little. But other than that I’m great.”

“Look, Dean.” The doctor took his glasses off, sat them on his desk, and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands fall between his legs. “Let me be frank. I’ve never seen so much bruising before on a CT scan. In cases like these, with minimal bruising, patients usually go back to normal. But with a case like yours…” He trailed off, thinking.

“Bruising causes the tissues in your brain to die off. The timeline for that to happen varies depending on the severity of the injury and the general health of the person involved. But with the amount of bruising you have, there’s no way for me to be sure that these dying tissues won’t create other problems; nerve damage, for example. These nerves in your brain control everything else in your body, and if the dying tissues begin affecting that, you’ll begin to lose control of your actions, your mood, your memory…”

Sam drew in a deep breath, looking at Dean with watery eyes.

“So what exactly are you sayin’, doc?” Dean asked, his brow furrowed as his tongue rested at the back of his teeth. He stole a glance at Cas, who was standing stone still with a knowing look on his face.

Dr. Robert paused before answering, regarding Dean with a hard but remorseful look. “Your condition will likely become degenerative. You’re faced with permanent brain damage, dementia…” The doctor clasped his hands together, “…worst case? Death.”

Dean’s chest rose and fell quickly with his silent scoff, and the corner of his mouth was turned slightly up, his eyes cast down at his feet. He licked his lips, pulling his bottom lip in with his tongue, then biting at it gently.

Dr. Robert watched Dean warily. “I’m sorry.”

There was silence in the room for several minutes before the doctor sighed again, pushing himself up from his chair. He clapped Dean on the shoulder, giving it a small squeeze, then left the room without another word.

“Dean...” Sam started, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out to him.

“Come on, let's go.” Dean hopped down from the table and stalked out of the room, leaving Sam and Cas standing awkwardly behind him before reluctantly following.

____________

Dean clasped the top of the steering wheel lazily, belting out the lyrics of “Smoke on the Water” as the Impala roared beneath them. He looked carefree, happy even, and while Sam seemed hopeful, Cas grew more and more angry.

Dean wasn't one to showcase his emotions. He always buried them deep inside, and he had become very good at hiding them. Cas knew that more than anything, Dean hated feeling vulnerable, and he hated showing weakness. He knew that Dean would do everything to take his pain with him to the grave ...anything to spare his brother any grief.

But Cas knew what Dr. Robert hadn't said. He saw the hopelessness in the man's mind, heard the unsaid words playing in his brain. Dean was going to die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it would be soon. It was inevitable. He was going to die, and it was he and Sam who would have to watch him fade.

“Lighten up, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed over the blaring music, looking over at his brother with a wide smile. Sam said nothing, his eyes cast down at the floorboard.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Dean.” Cas said through gritted teeth. He watched Dean's smile fade as he glanced back at him. He turned a knob on the dash, reducing the sound of the music to a soft lull.

“Problem, Cas?” He asked, eyebrows raised. He had a smug look on his face that let Cas know he already knew the answer.

“Why are you so ready to give up?” Cas hissed, testing him. “You know as well as I do that we can do... _something_. We can fix this. It doesn't have to be this way.”

Dean tilted his head up a little, his eyes for once fixated on the road ahead of him. He was quiet for several seconds before he finally spoke.

“I'm tired, man. This life...I've given it enough. It's my time.”

Cas scoffed and turned to look out the window, shaking his head.

“I mean it, Cas. You owe me this.” Dean looked at Castiel through the rearview mirror, his eyes just barely showing hints of sadness.

“Dean...”

“This is what I want. I'm tired of cheating death, Cas.”

At that, Dean turned the music back up and began to sing again. Neither Cas or Sam spoke for the rest of the ride back to the bunker.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s fight with Lucifer had been detrimental to his body, inwardly and outwardly. The three of them, with help from Rowena and Crowley, had managed to lock Lucifer away again…for now. But at great cost to all of them.

Rowena was dead, sacrificing the energy of her life force for the spell to lock him away. Crowley pretended to hate his 300-year-old witch of a mother, but he was in mourning. He poofed as soon as it was all over and no one had heard from him since. Sam and Cas took a fair beating before it was all over but Dean…Dean bore the brunt of it. As usual, Dean let himself serve as a distraction.

Dean Winchester…always so willing to die for the greater purpose.

Cas took a few days to wrap his head around Dean’s decision. He feigned an emergency in Heaven, claimed they needed him there to sort some things out. He disappeared, leaving the Winchester brothers alone in the bunker…or so they thought. Cas didn’t have anywhere else to go. Truthfully, he didn’t want to, couldn’t be, anywhere else right now. He just couldn’t stand the thought of being stuck in the awkward social dynamic caused by Dean’s decision. It was too much. He need time.

So he watched the brothers interact for two days, invisible to them. There were few conversations, mostly just grunts or quippy banter across the breakfast table or while watching television. Sam was obviously hurting, and he didn’t have much to say to his brother. But when he did talk, it was to beg Dean to change his mind.

“Dean, you don’t have to do this.” He said solemnly on the second day, standing in the doorway of Dean’s room. “Y-you can’t leave me like this.”

Dean sat down the gun he was polishing and wiped his hands on a white towel, his brow furrowing a little.

“It’s the best way I could hope to go, Sammy.” Dean spoke softly. “We always figured our lives would end bloody…it won’t this way. I can go like a normal person who leads an apple pie life…like someone who works as an accountant or a realtor.” He chuckled a little.

Sam gave a humorless smile. “But that’s not you. That’s not your life.”

Dean went serious again, and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Sam shrugged. “So then what are you doing?”

Dean finished wiping his hands and tossed the towel to the side. He appeared to be thinking while his tongue rested between his teeth, his eyes scanning Sam for a few moments before he spoke.

“It’s like I said, Sammy. I’m tired. This life keeps chewing me up and spitting me back out, and every time it’s worse than before. Maybe I need to die this way for it to stick.” He smirked a little. “And I can’t keep putting you through my death. You need a chance to move on and be something else. I can’t know you’re suffering anymore.”

Sam huffed angrily. “Dean, a life without you as my brother is suffering!” His nostrils flared as he shouted.

Dean stood there, a little started by his brother’s outburst. His eyebrows raised a little.

When Sam spoke again, his voice was much calmer. “I won’t know what to do. Y’know. By myself.”

“Yeah you will.” Dean nodded. “You did before, remember? With Amelia? You can have that again.”

Sam shook his head slightly, tears brimming in his eyes. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to, Sam.” Dean walked over to his gigantic little brother, a sad smile barely raising at the corners of his lips. He clapped his brother on the shoulder, hesitating for a moment, then pushed his way past him out the door. “C’mon. No chick flick moments, dude.”

After a few days of silently watching, Castiel made himself visible to the brothers again. He found them in the kitchen having breakfast and mumbled something about Heaven being a jumbled mess, then retreated to Dean’s bedroom. Since angels didn’t sleep, Cas had no need for his own room. When he needed space, he often spent time in Dean’s room. It was a comfort to him.

Truthfully, Dean was Cas’s comfort. There had always been something more between them, something unspoken. Everyone could see it. Cas and Dean themselves knew it, but it was something that never needed to be said. It was something that never needed validating. It was strong, it was pure, and it was unfaltering.

Dean knew this would hit Cas harder than anyone else. That’s why the moment Dean understood Dr. Robert’s diagnosis, his thoughts began screaming to Castiel. Cas saw the raw fear in Dean’s mind, yes, but more clearly than that, Cas saw the confidence of his decision. He saw himself holding Dean as he took his last breaths, he felt Dean’s regret as he saw himself through Dean’s eyes. The longing to tell him how he felt. The urge to use his last breath to press their lips together. He felt fear in the back of his mind, fear for leaving Sammy alone. But over everything, he felt peace. It was going to be over soon. No more suffering.

Castiel knew Dean’s decision before he even voiced it.

Cas traced a finger along the top of the heavy pine dresser as he passed it, then stopped at the edge of Dean’s bed, looking down at the small permanent indentation in the mattress where Dean slept. He stood there for several minutes, reminiscing of the times when he sat on the edge of that bed, comforting Dean as he suffered from his hell nightmares. He would sit for hours at a time, a firm hand grasping the shoulder that used to bear his mark, the scar long since faded, whispering calming Enochian in a low voice until Dean's shaking and whimpering ceased. It was the only way he could tell him how he felt. It was the only way he could tell him how much he loved him. How he prayed for that same love in return.

“Cas.”

Cas blinked at the sight of the mattress a few more times, tucking the memories away in his mind. He looked up at Dean standing in the doorway. His eyebrows were drawn together, his eyes glassy like he was holding back tears. His tongue rested at the back of his teeth the way it often did when he was thoughtful, and a hand was idly fumbling with the golden trinket hanging around his neck.

Cas sighed, turning his attention back to the empty bed. “Hello, Dean.”

He heard the door click shut quietly, then the shuffling of Dean’s boots on the concrete as he made his way across the room.

“What are you doing in here, man?” Dean asked in a gruff voice.

Cas squeezed his eyes shut tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He dropped the hand away from his face and turned to face Dean, his jaw set and head cocked slightly to the side.

“Do you recall what I said to you when you summoned me for the first time, all those years ago?”

Dean’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, and he spoke in an annoyed tone. “I don’t know, Cas. You were spouting off all kinds of crap that day…”

“I said…” Cas interrupted him, walking slowly in his direction, “’what’s the matter?’”

Dean’s face relaxed with recognition, and he dropped his head a little, nodding almost absentmindedly.

Cas stopped a foot or so in front of Dean, dropping his head as well to search out Dean’s eyes.

“’You don’t think you deserve to be saved.’”

Dean looked up and locked eyes with Cas, his pupils shining with unshed tears. He searched Cas’s face for a moment, taking in the ridiculously blue pools that regarded him with such admiration.

“I remember, Cas.” His voice started breaking, so he cleared his throat. “But I’ve been saved more times that I should have. I’ve had a lot of chances. My luck’s run out.”

Castiel scoffed, his brilliantly white teeth just barely showing under perpetually chapped and full lips. “This was never about luck. You’ve done great things with those chances. Righteous things.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean pressed at the inside corners of his eyes to stave off tears.

“How do you think of me, Dean?” Cas asked, his unrelenting eyes boring into Dean’s bright green ones.

Dean’s face creased with confusion again briefly, followed by a small flush of embarrassment.

“Cas…I…” he started, seeming to wrestle with the words, “…I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t because you’re afraid!” Cas snaps, a little harsher than he intended. “I know you, Dean. I know you better than anyone. You strive to protect everyone, and that’s why you can’t get close to anyone. Why you had me erase Lisa and Ben’s memories. Why you won’t involve yourself with anyone. I. Under. Stand.”

Dean looked at Cas through his eyelashes, his brow furrowed again, his pupils growing dark.

Cas scoffed again, cocking his head to the side, his cerulean eyes squinted. “I understand you, Dean. I live the same life as you. I’m not a damsel to be rescued. I’m your equal. I can protect myself. And I can protect you. And Dean….I need you.”

Dean inhaled a sharp breath, a few rogue tears making their way down his freckled cheeks. He stepped back and leaned against the wooden door of his bedroom.

I need you. Both of them knew what that really meant. The recognition hit Dean immediately, Cas picking up on images of the crypt playing in Dean’s mind. Cas towering over him with an angel blade, Dean’s face battered and bloody, Dean’s ‘I need you’ breaking Naomi’s mind control on Cas... the closest Dean has ever come to an admission of love.

“Cas…” Dean’s voice broke again, “I’ve always needed you. You know that.”

Cas eyes softened as he slowly closed the distance between them, ignoring Dean’s flinch as he raised his hand to his face, mimicking the moment in the crypt. Cas rested his hand on the side of Dean’s face, somewhat cupping below his jawline. He regarded the beautiful green-eyed man in front of him with sad eyes. He could feel all of Dean’s reservations. He could sense every emotion rolling through him at the moment. Dean was conflicted, but the sureness of his decision was apparent through all the scattered emotions.

Cas spoke slowly and deliberately, something inside of him aching, creating a feeling he was unable to describe. Something he was sure he had never felt before. “I defied my father for you. I'm here, walking the earth, for you. I fell for you, Dean, in every way imaginable.”

Dean sobbed against the heavy wooden door, looking anywhere but at Cas, the pending tears now streaming candidly down his freckled face.

Dean could feel his shield weakening with every choked breath, allowing himself to be completely vulnerable in front of the angel. He could never let Sammy see him this way. It was always his job to be the strong one. But with Cas, it was different. With Cas, he could let his guard down without becoming weak.

Dean watched as Cas's lips trembled slightly with his next words, his beautiful blue eyes capturing Dean's and holding them captive.

“When I first laid a hand on you in Hell, for the first time in my life, I was found. In saving you, I found myself. If I lose you...I'll lose everything I live for.”

This time, Dean's weak and broken utterance of the angel's name was swallowed up as Cas pressed his lips to the hunter's. Dean stiffened with the urgent impact of Cas's lips on his, unsure of the ramifications of acting on impulse in the way he so badly wanted to. Cas trailed his hands down to Dean's waist, resting them innocently on his sides as he pressed into him. After a moment, Dean relented, breathing in deeply through his nose as he pressed his lips hard back against Castiel's. He snaked one arm around Cas, pulling him tightly against him. His other hand cupped the back of the angel's head, his fingers weaving through the jet black strands of his hair.

They were molded to one another, and when Dean felt Cas's lips relax marginally, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, tentatively exploring the new territory. Their tongues danced slowly together, Dean's lapping softly into Cas's mouth, his fear and anxiety melting away with every little bit of contact. He ran his tongue softly along Castiel's bottom lip, and Cas let out a small groan before pushing his own tongue into Dean's mouth, much more rough and urgent than before. He nipped gently at Dean's lip, pulling it slightly before letting go and planting a few small kisses on it, giving Dean a chance to catch his breath.

Dean's heart pounded relentlessly, desperate need growing deep in his belly. He was shocked at the physical reaction that the kiss was having on him, in spite of knowing his true feelings for Castiel. He began to feel somewhat wary, afraid of what the kiss may mean for them knowing the outcome he chose for himself. He couldn't let himself grow attached now. It wasn't fair.

Castiel began to sense Dean's hesitation through his body language, his movements becoming chaste and his grip loosening. Cas refused to let go, refused to let Dean make this one of the things he was able to push down and hide for fear of looking weak. Not this time.

Cas pushed his entire body against Dean's, holding his face with both hands as he dipped his tongue back inside Dean's parted lips. Dean's tension released once again and he sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around the angel's waist as he held him against his own body. Their tongues connected again, twisting against each other, slowly and sensually.

They stood kissing for several moments before Cas finally broke it off, pressing his forehead to Dean’s and leaving Dean panting softly against the bedroom door.

Dean huffed a small laugh. “Where did that come from?”

“I grew tired of waiting on you do establish our relationship.”

“I mean…where did you learn that?”

Cas straightened up and cocked his head to the side, giving Dean a knowing look.

Dean laughed again, his head thrown back against the door as his shoulders shook mildly. “Oh, right. So can I expect more of that now?”

Cas’s mouth quirked at the corners, his eyes squinting at Dean’s boyish grin. “If you wish.”

“Oh, I wish.” Dean smirked as he pushed himself away from the door, walking over to the side of the bed Cas was previously standing at. He sat down with a huff, his legs hanging off the side of the bed, then flopped back across the bottom of the bed on his back with his hands splayed over his head.

Cas watched intently as Dean’s chest rose and fell with every breath he took. His eyes were closed and for the first time in a long time, Dean looked peaceful. Almost as if nothing bad was happening to him. Almost as if he’d finally gotten everything he ever wanted.

Almost.

Several moments passed before Dean rolled to his side, propping himself up with an elbow and resting the side of his head in his hand. He grinned.

“You’re staring.”

If Cas could blush, he would have. Instead, he looked away quickly, his eyes looking anywhere but at Dean. “My apologies.”

Dean laughed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Don’t be so stiff, Cas. It’s fine.”

Cas shifted his gaze back to Dean, his lips parted slightly as he regarded the beautiful man lying in front of him. He relaxed a bit, rolling his shoulders back and running a hand through his hair. “So I suppose your decision is final, then.”

Dean pressed his lips together in a hard line, any trace of humor gone from his face. He gave a hard nod.

“I'm not going anywhere just yet. But when it's my time, that's it. No more bail-outs.” He cast his eyes down at the comforter, picking at a few pieces of lint and dropping them on the stone floor. After a moment, he looked back up, giving Cas a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “But in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy every second I have left.”

Cas stared at him for a few moments before giving a solemn nod. “Then I'll be by your side. I'm not going anywhere.”

Dean's eyes crinkled a bit with his smile. “Good.”


	3. Chapter 3

Cas shuffled into the kitchen in the early morning hours to brew some coffee, not entirely surprised to find Sam sitting at the large wooden table surrounded by books. His laptop was also open in front of him, several tabs clouding the screen. Sam barely glanced at Cas over the top of his small mug when he entered.

“Hey.”

“Hello.” Cas poured himself some coffee then collapsed into the chair across from Sam.

Sam looked back up at him, one corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “So?”

“So what?”

“Were you able to change his mind?”

Cas gave Sam a hard look, shaking his head slowly. “No.”

Sam sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Stubborn bastard.”

“Understatement.”

Sam shuffled a few papers around, sitting his mug safely out of reach. He flipped through several of the books in front of him before stopping on a smaller one with thin, crinkled pages and abnormally small lettering. The cover was a dark blue leather and it had strange symbols on the front that Cas recognized to be associated with Lucifer. He frowned at Sam, his eyes squinting to slits.

“Did you find something?”

Sam scoffs into the pages of the book, his eyes trailing some of the words on the page. “An explanation, of sorts. But nothing to make Dean change is mind. As if that was possible anyway.”

Cas sat up in his seat, leaning into the table. “Go on.”

“After talking with the doctor, I got curious. I mean, it's possible for dementia and other problems to stem from a brain injury, but not immediately. And the way Dr. Robert talked, it's pretty far advanced already.”

Cas nodded. “He talked like we could start seeing symptoms any day now.”

“Right. Exactly! So I did some digging, and the most coherent explanation I could come up with is that spell that Rowena used on Lucifer.”

Cas's brow furrowed again, and he looked questioningly at Sam.

“Well at the time she cast the spell, Lucifer was fighting with Dean. It's likely that they were physically touching when the spell hit Lucifer, and some of the energy was transferred to him. But since it was a negative energy, a life force energy being used to physically and mentally weaken him...”

“You think it somehow sped up the progression of injuries that Dean had already sustained?”

“Exactly. Get this...Rowena maintained that particular spell would weaken Lucifer. That it would weaken him to the point in which it would be possible to shove him back in the cage. It was playing upon his previous weaknesses sustained from the fight with Michael, our numerous attempts at locking him away, Rowena's previous spells...”

Cas raised his eyebrows a bit. “So you think his physical contact with Dean at the time the spell was cast caused some of it to affect him.”

“Yes! Somehow some of that energy was passed to him, weakening his already sustained injuries.”

“Thus causing the brain injuries to increase at an abnormal rate.”

Sam threw his hands up, then flopped back in the chair, a smug look on his face. “I mean, it doesn't help with the problem at hand. That is, convincing Dean to let us look for another way.”

Cas looked at Sam sternly, his eyes turned down in the corners. “Sam...”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Don't you do that, Cas. You can't give up on him.”

“I've tried to persuade Dean...”

“ _Then try. Again._ ” Sam spit through clenched teeth, his nostrils flaring a little.

Cas sat there a moment, looking at the distraught younger Winchester, his lips parted slightly as he pondered what to say.

Sam scoffed, leaning forward in his seat, inches from Cas's face. “What good are you to me, then?”

Cas licked at his lips nervously, looking down at the table briefly before giving Sam another sincere look. “Sam. If what you're saying is true, then this was always going to be the outcome.”

“But we know now. It doesn't have to be.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, you don't understand. This was always going to happen, just at a slower rate. Dean would have made the same decision. And it would have been worse. Much worse, because we wouldn’t have seen it coming.”

Sam sat there, his jaw somewhat clenched as he tongued at the back of his teeth, his eyes hard as he regarded the angel in front of him. Finally he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Well, I guess we'll never know, will we?”

Cas sat in silence as the sound of Sam's feet shuffling on the floor grew quieter, his eyes never leaving the spot where Sam had been sitting. He sighed and dropped his head, and for the first time in a long time, he prayed.

___________

The next morning, the three of them sat at the kitchen table, Sam and Cas sipping black coffee while Dean shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth. Sam pretended to read as he repeatedly stole glances at Dean, who appeared to be oblivious as he ate, little fluffy pieces of egg occasionally getting stuck on his lip before falling back onto the table.

Dean unattractively slurped at his coffee, then sat his mug down and stretched his arms widely over his head, picking bits of bacon and egg out of his teeth with his tongue.

“Well fellas, I found us a case.” He gave a charismatic grin, giving Cas an elusive wink before dropping his hands back to the table in front of him.

“Dean…” Sam started to protest, but stopped when Dean shot him a look.

“I don’t want to hear any more crap about me dying.” He said gruffly. “I want to work. I need to work.”

Sam pressed his lips into a hard line but said nothing, nodding a little in response.

“Besides, this case is small-fry. Be a good chance to have a little fun.” He made a loud smacking noise with his lips then smiled widely, his white teeth gleaming. “Whaddaya say?”

Cas regarded him with wary eyes before ultimately sighing and nodding his head. “Very well.”

Dean smacked the table lightly, then pushed himself up out of his chair. “Great. I’ll brief you on the way. Meet you in the car in 10?”

Before either of them could answer, Dean strode out of the room whistling, no doubt an old rock tune. Cas stared after him as the sound of his whistling echoed then disappeared down the bunker hallway.

He turned back around to find Sam giving him an amused look.

Cas cocked his head. “What?”

Sam smirked a little then brought his mug to his lips, taking a long sip before clearing his throat. “Does he know?”

Cas felt strangely uncomfortable at Sam’s question, not entirely sure what he was implying. “Know what?”

“Oh, come on, Cas.” Sam laughed breathily, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. When Cas didn’t answer, Sam scoffed a little.

“Does he know how you feel about him?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah. Right. Well I hope you take the opportunity to tell him. Y’know. Before it’s too late.” Sam raised his mug up to his lips again, pausing right before taking a sip. “I think he’d want to know.”

Cas’s eyes softened, and he shot Sam an exhausted look. “He does know.”

Sam took another sip of his coffee, then nodded. “Good.”

Cas fiddled with the fork on Dean’s plate in front of him for a minute before dropping it with a clank and turning quickly back to Sam.  
“Sam, how-“

He stopped, not knowing exactly what to say. Sam waited expectantly, looking up at him from his open book.

“How what, Cas?”

Cas frowned, pondering what it was exactly that he was trying to say. He chewed absentmindedly at his already-chapped lip before letting it slide out from between his teeth, looking directly back at Sam.

“How do you tell the person you love not to do something they so badly insist on doing?”

The corners of Sam’s mouth lifted in a small smile, his eyes crinkling a little with the movement. In that moment, Cas noticed the fine lines that were very faintly beginning to form on the younger Winchester’s face, perhaps only visible to him. The circles under his eyes were bulging slightly, dark and angry, and his usually smooth face was enveloped in the beginning of what was sure to be an impressive beard. He looked much older than his true 34-year-old self.

Sam reached over and gave Cas’s hand a small tap, then pushed himself up from the table. “That’s the thing. You can’t.”

Cas’s face puzzled as he turned to watch Sam walking out of the room. “So then what should I do?”

Sam slowed to a stop, his back still turned, and his head dropped a little. Cas could see the tension clinging to his broad shoulders.

“Love him through it.” Sam said simply, then disappeared out of the kitchen door.

__________

What should have been a six hour drive to Colorado Springs was cut to about four and a half with Dean driving, and the three of them arrived shortly after noon. On the way, Dean briefed them on the hunt. One 19-year-old girl had turned up dead and another was already missing.

Dean pulled the Impala into a space in front of a shoddy motel called The Blackbird Inn, put her in park and killed the engine. The inn was small, maybe eight to ten rooms, and it was obvious the owner did only minimal upkeep. The white brick walls were stained with dirt and tar, the roof had broken shingles that were occasionally flapped when the wind blew, and the white paint on the tarnished doors was peeling heavily, revealing a sickening pale yellow color underneath. While this place was an absolute nightmare, Cas recalls that it’s not even close to the dingiest place he’d ever seen the Winchesters bunk down in for the night.

They all stepped out of the car and stretched, their joints sore from sitting in the car for the last few hours. Dean strode around the car and glanced around quickly before opening the trunk and pulling out his bags, including the green army-like bag that held a good amount of his guns.

“Garth sends his love.” He chuckled as he pulled the bags onto his shoulder.

Sam shot Dean a questioning look. “Garth? He’s hunting again?”

Dean started walking toward the lobby of the inn, seemed to think twice about taking his bags with him, and instead threw them over Sam’s shoulder. “Yeah. He called from the road, headed to Wyoming to help out with a Wendigo.” He fished in his pocket for his wallet. “He’s the one who called me about the case.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and slapped it into his other hand, giving Sam a cheesy smile before turning on his heel and heading for the lobby.

“He seems to be in an uncharacteristically good mood.” Cas noted, watching as Dean reached the small motel office and threw open the glass door, the small bell at the top clanging loudly.

“Yeah…” Sam said thoughtfully, gazing after Dean as well. He sighed and shot Cas a glance before Dean was done with the innkeeper and making his way back over to them.

They all piled into the dusty hotel room, taking in the perpetual smell of smoke and the stained carpets. Cas watched with amusement as Dean absentmindedly ran his hand along the dresser before jerking it away, making a disgusted face, and wiping the hand furiously on his shirt.

Suddenly Dean barked a loud laugh, slapping his hands together as his whole torso shook. Sam jumped in surprise, then gave Dean an annoyed look as he dropped his bag to the floor.

“You know why I picked this place?” Dean said through his laughter, finally straightening back up with a tired sigh. “The name made me think of mom.”  
Sam scoffed. " _This_ place made you think of mom?”

Dean gave a small smile and shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you don’t remember, I know, but…she used to like the Beatles. Loved them, actually. It’s all I ever remember her singing. Her favorites were _Hey, Jude_ and _Blackbird_.”

Dean stood there, lost in thought as he fiddled with the metal room key, rolling between his fingers, his tongue coming to rest behind his teeth.  
He smirked, looking up suddenly and capturing Cas’s cerulean irises with his own gaze.

“ _Blackbird_ was my favorite.” He barely nodded, his eyes showing a flicker of sadness before he coughed loudly, clearing his throat and breaking the reverie. “So! What do you guys wanna do for food? We have a few hours to kill before going after this sonofabitch.”

“Aren't we going to meet with the coroner first?” Sam asked as he plopped down on the bed, his giant frame causing the metal springs to whine in protest.

“Nah. Garth called in a few favors as FBI agent James Brown and got the scoop.” Dean chuckled as he used air quotes for Garth's no-so-clever alias. “Anyway, based on what he could find out, he said his best guess is djinn. The body was drained of blood.”

Sam's brow furrowed. “You're not thinking vamp?”

“Well that was my first thought, but no bite marks. Only other thing we figured it could be at that point is djinn. Plus the vic had marks on her wrists, like she'd been strung up. That's how they were draining me that time. You remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Sam sighed, pushing himself up on his elbows. “So then we're looking for a place of ruins...a warehouse? Some sort of abandoned factory?”

Dean unzipped the green bag and pulled out a double-barrel sawed off shotgun, closing one eye as he looked through the sight, the gun pointed harmlessly toward the bed. “Yep. Know of anywhere like that around here?”

Sam sighed again and pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling his laptop bag into his lap. Cas pulled out one of the questionable chairs at the small breakfast table by the window and sat down as Sam fired up his laptop. He watched as Dean toyed a bit with a few of the guns, then tracked his every movement as he walked away from the bed toward the mirror on the other side of the hotel room, admiring the gentle bow of his legs under the starch denim.

Dean leaned in toward the mirror, scrubbing his hands slowly over his face, the laugh and worry lines disappearing for a split second. A split second where Dean looked young and carefree and full of life, the way a typical 38-year-old should look. For that split second time slowed down for Castiel, and he remembered the first time he ever met Dean Winchester.

Cas met Dean before the day that Dean remembers as their first meeting. Cas met Dean the day he pulled him from the fiery pit of Hell. Cas was admittedly not excited about his mission to save Dean Winchester. What angel of the Lord wants to risk his life and good name by diving into the pit to save one human? A human who, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't truly matter?

But God commanded it. This Dean Winchester was meant to be the one to unknowingly begin the breaking of the seals. It was Castiel's duty to get to him before Alastair had the chance to break him. It was an important mission, and God had chosen him. So Castiel obeyed. He prepared for battle, equipping himself with his angel blade, and dove into the flames, searching for the one human who was going to accidentally begin the end of times. The one who would, then, have to save the world.

Castiel fought for several days to get to Dean, although since time works differently in Hell it was equal to almost a month's worth of time there. When he finally made his way to Dean, though, he was too late. The man was broken, forced into preying upon the unfortunate souls who found themselves on the rack. It was heartbreaking to watch the anguished man tear the souls from limb to limb, screaming, tears running down his face while he sobbed broken pleas at the feet of Alastair.

When Castiel intervened, Alastair was no match for him. He fled, leaving the shell of the broken man at Castiel’s feet, clutching at his ankles while he begged for mercy. His muddled cries were swallowed up by the grating screams of souls still on the rack. Castiel gritted his teeth and pulled the man up by his frayed shirt, grasping the collar as he finally looked directly into the eyes of the man who was meant to save mankind.

Bright green eyes stared back at him, the color of the sea after a storm. The man's eyes were wide with blind fear, and they glistened with unshed tears. His face was gaunt and overshadowed with heavy stubble. His cheeks were wet with tears and he had dark pools of black under his eyes. The lines on his face had become deep crevices and there was hardly any pigment left anywhere in his body, save for those brilliant eyes. His face was covered in bruises and cuts in various stages of healing. He had the face of a broken and dying man.

He was the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen.

Something in Castiel clicked in that moment, and he knew this mission was meant for him. He was meant to save Dean Winchester from Hell. He was meant to protect Dean Winchester from everything.

As Castiel stared into those impossibly green eyes, the man opened his cracked lips and uttered the first words he'd ever say to Castiel, and the ones that Castiel would always obey, at whatever cost to him.

“ _Save me_.”

Castiel's lapse ended as he spun the man around and threw an arm around his chest, planting his right hand firmly on Dean's left shoulder, his left still gripping his blade in order to fight off the demons protesting their escape. He began to morph, rising both of them up from the fiery pit.

The last thing Castiel did before dropping the Winchester back in his grave is wipe all memory of him. Hell would have to remain. He needed to know what happened. He needed to know why he was meant to end it all.

Cas cringed at the memory of leaving the broken man with Hell memories. But they were orders. If he hadn't been so blind then...

He looked up again to find Dean watching him thoughtfully in the mirror, leaning over the faux wooden counter, his pectoral muscles flexing slightly under the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He lifted a corner of his mouth, giving Cas a shy smile.

“So get this.” Sam said, breaking their reverie. “There's an old brewery not too far from here. It was originally an old school, but they turned it into Bristol Brewing Company several years after the school closed down. Nine years ago, there was a fire that rendered the building unsafe to work in and it was abandoned.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Worth checking out. Let's go.”

“Let me go first.”

Dean turned to Cas, frowning a little. “Uhhh, no Cas. We'll go with you.”

Cas rolled his eyes a little. “I'm an angel, you ass. Let me go check it out ahead of you.”

Dean just stared at him, his tongue coming to rest behind his teeth again.

Cas's eyes softened. “Please. I insist.”

Dean clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. But as soon as you know something, you call us. Got it?”

Cas nodded, then disappeared.

The whooshing of Cas's wings sounded eerie and out of place in the quiet abandoned school. There was a strong smell of smoke, and burnt rubble littered the entire tiled floor. Everything was covered in dust and ash. Cas noted what was left of the long wooden bar, with barstools scattered all around, the seats burned out and leaving nothing but the metal frames behind. There were half-burned draperies, which appeared to be the remains of flags from several different countries, some still barely clinging to the charred walls. Burnt and broken wooden tables were strewn about and there was broken glass covering most areas of the floor. The glass behind the bar had also been shattered, with only a few pieces remaining attached here and there, and Cas could see separate reflections of himself in the few shards that still clung stubbornly to the wall.

The place was an absolute dump.

Cas stepped forward tentatively, glass crunching under each step. He looked around as he walked, listening intently and taking in the ruins around him. He made his way to the bar placed a hand gently on the blackened remains, idly considering how much Dean probably would have loved this place before it met its unfortunate fate. It was exactly the type of place in which Dean felt so comfortable. If there were two things that Dean Winchester excelled at, besides hunting, it was hustling pool and drinking.

Castiel smiled a little to himself, turning away from the bar and making his way carefully across the room to the impressive staircase that appeared to be in much better shape than the main bar area. He craned his neck to see up to the second floor, then teleported into his line of vision and looked down from the balcony back to the tiled staircase.

The second floor of the building was still in decent condition, with only minimal damage from the fire. Most of the rooms, which used to be old classrooms, now held various arcade games and pool tables that had been long since abandoned. One room had several blankets and a small wastebasket that held remains of a fire. It was likely this place held squatters all the time, given the condition of the upper floor and the fact that the building was abandoned and no one seemed keen on demolishing it, or even locking it up, for that matter.

Cas continued down the hall, giving each room a once-over before making his way to the next room. Finally, there was one room left, at the far end of the hall. The door was pulled almost shut and Cas froze momentarily at a small shuffling sound coming from the other side.

He crept quietly to the end of the hall and paused briefly in front of the cracked door before finally pushing it open. It made a long and sufferable creaking noise as it swung. To his immediate right, Castiel spotted a young girl, dirty with blood, sweat, and ash, strung up to the ceiling by her wrists, the tips of her toes barely touching the dirt-covered floor. Her head was hung low, her blonde hair stringy and hanging over her face. She appeared to be unconscious.

As Castiel neared her, he noticed the bagged blood hanging from a metal hook, also suspended from the ceiling. The bag was connected by a long tube to the needle in her arm, effectively draining her. He reached the girl and immediately checked for a pulse, feeling a very faint one in her carotid artery. He pulled the needle gently out of her bony arm and let it fall, little droplets of blood dripping onto the messy floor.

Cas paused briefly and considered healing her before freeing her, but decided against it. It would be best to get her out of the building before performing the miracle, especially since young girls who were kidnapped and held against their will didn't usually take well to waking up and finding themselves in a strange man's presence. Not to mention, Cas wasn't good with explanation, and how was he supposed to explain her sudden recovery?  
No. He would get her out and drop her at a hospital. They would know what to do there.

Cas reached up with one hand and began furiously fiddling with the tight knots around the girl's wrists while he held one arm around her for support.

By the time he heard the faint shuffling behind him, it was too late.

He whipped around, felt a hand grab his throat, and everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas woke slowly, the smell of coffee and bacon filling his nostrils. He was laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He blinked a few more times, the shadowed ceiling reappearing each time he opened his eyes. If he didn’t sleep, how did he just wake up?

Castiel had lost time. He never lost time.

He shifted a little in the bed, confusion clouding his still sleep-riddled mind. He registered a vague ache in his back, and his head was pounding. Cas frowned, trying to remember how he got there. Taking a quick look around, he noted that the room was mostly familiar to him. It was the bunker, but brighter and less musty, with beautiful white trim and gray walls. Their furniture was a deep mahogany set, and their nightstands donned matching seaglass green lamps. They matched the way Dean’s eyes looked in the sun.

He felt something stir in the bed beside him, followed by a small snort. Only then did the familiar scent of leather, gunpowder, and pine overwhelm his nostrils, and he subconsciously relaxed a little as he inhaled the intoxicating essence. Cas knew that smell. It smelled like home.

“Dean?”

Dean hummed low in his throat as he shifted in bed, turning to face Cas with his eyes still closed, and he smacked his lips obnoxiously a few times. His brown hair was ruffled boyishly and the sheets were draped lazily around his naked torso. A few of the flames from the tattoo on his chest barely poked out from under the sheet. His dark eyelashes were that much more prominent in the dark of the bedroom, casting small shadows on his cheeks below. Despite Cas’s confusion, he admired the way Dean looked sleeping peacefully next to him.

He reached out tentatively, hesitating before lightly brushing his fingers over some of Dean’s thick and wild hair. Dean stirred again, and Cas drew his hand back quickly, watching Dean’s face intently.

“Dean.”

Dean’s eyes fluttered a few times before they opened, the impossibly green eyes regarding him comfortably.

“Hmmmmm.” Dean hummed a second time, his eyes closing again. His lips curled into a smile. “Mornin’, angel.” He muttered in his deep register, his voice still groggy with sleep.

“Umm. Good morning…human.” Cas said curtly, still watching Dean’s face.

Dean frowned and one of his eyes popped open again. He regarded Cas for a moment before laughing, his perfect teeth bright even in the darkness of the room.

“Cas, we’ve talked about this. ‘Angel’ is a pet name. Calling me human is a statement of fact.”

Cas’s brow furrowed and he squinted at Dean. “A…pet name?”

Dean sighed, grin never leaving his face. “Yeah. A pet name is something you give someone you really like. It can be whatever you like.”

Cas considered that for a moment. “I like bees. They’re majestic creatures.”

Dean snorted. “You’ve mentioned that before.”

Cas pondered for another moment, then broke out in a smile. “I will call you honeybee.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Why not?” Cas was stern.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. “You know what? Fine. But I won’t like it.” He rolled over to his back, raising up slightly as he adjusted himself back under the covers.

“What are you doing up before me, anyway?” He chuckled. “You’re not exactly what I’d call a morning person.”

It dawned on Cas that he had almost forgotten to ask Dean what was going on. How did they get there? And why was he feeling so… _human_?

“Dean…I…” Castiel started, his forehead scrunching while he tried to speak, “I, um. My head hurts.”

Dean glanced over at him, his eyebrows raised a little, then scoffed. “Well, yeah. I imagine it would.”

Cas frowned deeper, perplexed.

Dean scratched absentmindedly at his neck. “You were really putting them away last night. I had to drag you to bed.” He laughed again, his tongue coming to rest at the back of his teeth. “It was some party.”

“We had…a party?”

“Jesus, Cas. What planet are you on? Did the whiskey hit you that hard?” Dean gave him a strange look and sat up, letting his legs dangle over the bed, giving Cas an eyeful of his perfectly toned ass against the edge of the mattress. To his surprise, he felt arousal stirring deep in his belly, and his cock twitched at the sight.

“Right…the party.” Cas scoffed and shook his head, trying to contain his ignorance. His eyes darted around worriedly.

Dean pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and walked around to Cas’s side of the bed. He placed a hand gently on Cas’s forehead, then dropped it to his cheek.

“Well, temp feels normal. Must just be hungover.” He smiled a little, but stopped when Cas didn’t respond. “Babe, you okay?”

“Um.” Cas uttered in a gruff tone. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Dean smiled again, his teeth gleaming. “Good. Now come on, smells like Sammy’s making breakfast.” He gave Cas a quick peck on the lips before standing up straight and heading for the door.

Castiel nodded and got out of bed quickly, throwing on sweats of his own, but not before Dean mischievously swatted at his ass, landing a good smack right on his cheek and making Cas jump in surprise. He waggled his eyebrows playfully and took off down the hall, Cas trailing closely behind.

They both entered the kitchen of the bunker, which looked mostly the same, save for the uncharacteristic mess strewn about the table and counters. There were plates and beer bottles and shot glasses littered everywhere, and the surfaces of the table and counter were badly in need of sanitizing. Sam was busy at the stove, bacon sizzling in the frying pan and a carton of eggs open beside him.

Dean gave a long whistle, taking in the state of the kitchen. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us today, huh?”

Sam turned with a big grin. “Yeah. Good morning. You guys hungry?”

“I'm sorry, have you met me?” Dean gestured to himself with a chuckle, then hoisted himself up onto the counter, letting his legs dangle off the side.

“Right.” Sam laughed, pushing a rogue strand of hair behind his hear. “That was a hell of a party last night. Did you guys have a good time?”

Dean gave Sam a sly look. “Sammy...are you asking if I got laid last night?”

“What?! Gross, Dean! No!”

Dean shot Cas a devilish smile, then a wink. “Well if you must know...”

“DEAN.” Sam held his hands up in front of him, his head tilted to the side. “No. I was just-”

“...of course I fucked my husband last night.”

Sam made a disgusted face. “Dude. I did not need to know that.”

The brothers bickered amongst themselves for a couple of minutes, Dean making sexual innuendo quips at Sam and Sam understandably acting the part of a disgusted younger brother. Cas stood awkwardly near them, trying to process their conversation and the alternate universe that he had obviously been somehow catapulted to.

“We're....married?”

The brothers both stopped bickering and looked over at Cas, shock evident on both of their faces. Dean stared for a minute before giving a huff of a laugh, then looking back to Sam.

“He's real hungover.” Dean said, his eyebrows raised as he indicated broadly with his hands. Sam nodded in understanding.

“No, I'm not. I mean, I...I'm not...sure...” Cas was grasping for words.

“Okay.” Dean clicked his tongue and hopped swiftly off the counter, walking over and positioning himself in front of Cas. He grabbed his face with both hands, his bright green eyes staring directly into Cas's. “I don't know what's going on with you, but let me fill you in. We got married yesterday, and you are now my husband. We had a party to celebrate the wedding. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Jody, Ash, Kevin, and Charlie, among several others, came over to party with us and we all got smashed. There. End of story.”

“B-Bobby? Kevin?” Castiel sputtered incredulously.

“Yes! And Charlie and Ellen-“ Dean reiterated forcefully, then stopped suddenly, sighing heavily and pinching the top of his nose between his eyes. He stood there for a minute shaking his head, then finally huffed another laugh. “You’re a frustrating man, Mr. Winchester.”

Castiel’s mind reeled, and he stood there processing all the new information while Sam gave him a strange look, his smile more questioning than amused.

“Dean…” Cas’s eyes shifted to Dean’s impossibly green ones, giving him a pleading look. Dean threw Sam a look, and Sam seemed to get the hint, because he turned back to the stove and busied himself with making them all breakfast.

Dean turned back to Cas, his eyes soft. “What’s going on?”

Cas lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning forward, close to Dean’s ear. “I…I’m not sure what’s happening to me.”

Dean pulled his head back with a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

Cas sighed heavily and lowered his gaze from Dean’s, embarrassed. “I was sleeping.”

“Sleeping is strange now, all of a sudden?” Dean seemed thoroughly confused.

Cas huffed with his growing frustration. “I’m not an angel anymore.”

Dean’s face relaxed with understanding, and his eyes looked wistful. “I thought this was what you wanted. If I’d known you had second thoughts, Cas, I never would’ve…” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I never would’ve let you do this.”

Dean looked down at his hands, the thumb and forefinger from his right hand intentionally fiddling with the ring on his left ring finger that Castiel had not noticed until now. It was a thick band, with some sort of black colored metal around the edges. There was a thick strip in the middle that was an iridescent blue, almost like a glowing cloud tumbling through the center of the ring. Castiel stared, the awareness of the strange substance giving him a mixed array of emotions.

It was his grace.

Castiel reached out and took Dean’s left hand, running a finger over the shiny ring. The essence inside billowed at a faster pace when he touched it, the recognition of its owner inciting a beautiful display of bright blue clouds and angelic light.

Cas smiled, his blue eyes crinkling in the corners as the smile touched them.

“I gave you my wings.”

Dean nodded solemnly. “I didn’t want…I tried to change your mind. You said there was no other way. I mean, you said that you wanted to do it the way humans got to, that you wanted to grow old with me. You gave me your wings…and I’m giving you my humanity.”

Cas felt his eyes begin to burn, and it was a shocking revelation when he realized he was crying. Hot tears welled in his eyes, the beautiful ring becoming an indistinct blur of black and blue. He looked up to meet Dean's eyes yet again, the strange tears leaving tracks down his stubbled face.

Dean's face looked pained. “Cas...”

Cas sobbed a laugh and sniffled. “I'm okay. I'm just...happy.”

“You're... _crying_.” Dean marveled, placing both hands on the sides of Cas's face. He used a rough thumb to brush away a falling tear. “You don't cry. Ever.”

“Well I'm human now. It's to be expected.” Cas sniffed again and wiped his nose on his sleeve, making a disgusted face at the track of snot left on his t-shirt. He groaned. “Ughh. Being human is going to be a learning experience.”

Dean smiled. “I have a feeling you'll get the hang of it. Want me to grab you some tissue?”

“I can get it. I'll be right back.” Cas started to turn, then stopped. “Honeybee.”

From behind the stove, Sam snorted a laugh. Dean shot Cas an annoyed look before smirking and giving him a sly wink.

“Get out of here, angel.”

Cas grinned and turned, making his way to Dean's room, and disappeared into the bathroom. He immediately grabbed for a wad of toilet paper, wiping at his cheeks then his nose, then turned to face the mirror. Even in the dimness of the bathroom, Cas's face had a glow about it. A happiness that had never been there before...a hopefulness that he never thought possible.

And he smiled. His bright blue eyes lit up, the corners crinkling with laugh lines. His face was covered in coarse stubble, like it had been a few days since he last shaved. His dark hair was tousled and sticking up in all directions. His white teeth were accentuated with full, pink lips. Somehow, becoming human made him look both younger and older at the same time. It wasn't possible but yet...

Castiel felt alive for the very first time. The irony was that feeling alive was the effect of choosing to eventually die.

That didn't matter now. Cas had Dean, and Dean was healthy. Dean was happy.

Cas leaned closer to the mirror, squinting as he tried to remember any kind of explanation for where he was and how he got there. It was off-putting, to say the least, that he was aware of his presence in an alternate universe, yet still unaware of how he got there. While his and Dean’s relationship could have easily, under better circumstances, lead to this point, it was obvious that this Dean wasn’t his Dean. At least, not the Dean who was dying from a traumatic brain injury.

No, this Dean was definitely not dying. He was able to sense it, even without his powers.

Cas struggled to surface his most recent memory of the real world. He recalled the fight with Lucifer, and Dean’s devastating diagnosis. He strained his mind, pulling bits of random old memories he had stashed away. The crypt flashed before him, followed by Dean’s bloodied face and the light reflecting off an angel blade, Dean’s dejected expression as he watched his brother tumble into Lucifer’s cage, Dean’s joy as he pulled Cas into a hug after searching for him in Purgatory for a year. The memories came to him in quick succession, all jumbled, making his head throb with the effort of cultivating and trying to sort through them.

He pushed deeper into his psyche, and Cas felt the reel of his memories drawing to a close. He felt heat spread to his face as his mind tossed him directly into the middle of him pushing himself flush with Dean against his bedroom door as they lapped gently into each other’s mouths. He could feel the warmth of Dean’s mouth enveloping his tongue as it explored unfamiliar territory; feel Dean’s calloused hands threading themselves into his hair as his stubble scratched gently against his chin. He felt Dean’s breathless panting against his lips, then saw a flash of a wolfish grin as Dean laid on his bed.

He saw flashes of glistening black paint and shiny chrome, then a dingy motel sign adorned with block lettering and a large picture of a raven. More flashes of red patterned carpet and Dean’s full-body laugh.

His nostrils became overwhelmed by the strong smell of smoke, and he saw flashes of wood and ash. Suddenly, the bloodied body of a woman he didn’t recognize flashed beside him, and for a split second he was unsure if she was real or a figment of his imagination. Then he remembered.

The djinn.

The djinn must’ve gotten him.

Castiel hadn’t realized he was breathing so hard until he collapsed, falling clumsily back against the white tiled wall, the strain of forcing his memories to surface almost too much for his human body. Even considering that in the real world, he was still an angel.

He scrubbed a shaking hand down his face, his day old stubble scratching at his palm. Surely dream Dean would be in to check on him soon. He needed to figure out what he was going to do.

He needed to get back to reality. Obviously. He needed to find a way to break his physical body from the illusion, so he could go back to real life, with real Dean. He needed to find a way. He had to get back.

Except…

He didn’t want to.

How much more desirable was it to stay in this fantasy world with a fake Dean who was healthy and in love with him? In the real world, it seemed Castiel could never be allowed both. It was one or the other. Dean is healthy and never admits his feelings, or Dean is sick and sees no reason to fight them. Here, Cas has the best of both worlds.

But on the other hand…fake Dean is not his Dean. An exact replica perhaps, but he’d never come close to the real thing. He fell in love with Dean as he really is, unresolved tensions and all. Fake Dean was too perfect, the perfection being the fatal flaw. It wasn’t his Dean. Cas knew that.

And yet, being with dream Dean would be so simple, so effortless, and Castiel would be lying to say this wasn’t what he wanted. Here, he was able to love Dean without restraint because he didn’t have to fear rejection or death.

At home, rejection was possible….and death was certain.

Cas pulled himself up, resting his palms on the counter as he peered once again into the mirror. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, an interesting background against his cobalt eyes. His brow was creased with worry.

So this is what it felt like to be human.

There was a knock at the door, and Cas jumped a little despite the small sound. “Cas? You okay?”

Cas gave a hard nod to himself in the mirror. He wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“Yes, m’fine.” He mumbled, opening the door and finding a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at him. He shivered, the action having nothing to do with the cold.

Dean leaned against the doorway, his head coming to rest against the frame. He reached out a hand, his fingers finding the loose waistband of Cas's sweatpants, and pulled gently. Cas relented and shuffled forward the few inches to meet Dean, his hands coming up to rest on Dean's hips.

Dean spoke softly, his gruff voice comforting. “You sure? You seem...I don't know. Lost.”

“No. No. I'm...better than I've ever been.” Cas looked up through his dark eyelashes. “Honestly.”

Dean pulled Cas closer and trailed a finger from Cas's waistband slowly up his torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake until finally letting the shirt drop back down to cover his stomach. Dean's fingers continued upward, running over Cas's covered nipple, causing it to harden slightly under his touch. When Dean's fingers made it to Cas's neck, he ghosted them sweetly over the sensitive skin there, then rested his hand along his jawline, grasping gently as he rubbed his thumb softly over the thick stubble of his cheek.

Cas leaned into the touch, closing his eyes, taking in the foreign sensation of actually _enjoying_ human touch.

“Hey.”

Cas reluctantly tore his eyes open, meeting beautiful forest green eyes, just inches from his face. He could smell bitter coffee on Dean's tongue, the scent mixing wonderfully with the undertones of pine, leather, and gunpowder on his skin.

“Hmm?”

“I love you. You know that?” Dean's hand still rested on Castiel's cheek, rubbing idly.

“I know.” Cas whispered. “I love you too, Dean.”

Dean pulled Cas into him, pressing their bodies flush and planting a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. He pulled away and smirked a little, running his thumb down Cas's lower lip.

Dean's eyes twinkled devilishly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before biting down on his own lower lip. “C'mon. Let me take care of you.”

Cas froze.

Dean sensed his hesitation and his brow furrowed. “Cas. Hey. Don't worry. The notion that you're still new to all this is not lost on me. We'll go slow. I promise.”

Cas fiddled nervously with his own wedding ring, a hammered copper band that Dean no doubt made himself.

Dean reached out again, sliding the fingers of his left hand slowly over Cas's, then locking their fingers together. He reached up with his other hand and grabbed Cas's chin, forcing him to look up at him again.

“Trust me.” He whispered, his eyes searching Cas's. Finally Cas nodded, and Dean smiled reassuringly.

Dean took Cas's right hand in his left, re-threading their fingers together, and led them both to the edge of the bed.

Cas's heart was pounding in his chest. Dean gave him another small smile before taking his face in his hands again, crushing their lips together. He carded his fingers through the back of Cas's hair, tickling the nape of his neck slightly with the movement. Cas automatically brought his hands up to Dean's hips and rested them there, feeling the sharp jut of his hip bones beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

Cas sighed and relaxed, his lips soft against Dean's, and Dean slipped his tongue inside, gently lapping against Cas's full lips. The kiss grew in intensity, Dean eventually meeting Cas's tongue with his own. They spent several minutes like that, each of them tasting each other, the sweet taste of Castiel's tongue intermingling with the bitter coffee on Dean's.

Castiel began to feel arousal deep in his belly, Dean fanning the fire by pressing himself impossibly close and pushing his tongue further into Cas's mouth, their tongues dancing together in slow, sweet harmony. He panted against Dean's lips, and Dean let out a small hum deep in his throat. The gutteral sound mixed with their soft kissing drove Cas crazy, and he felt himself begin to grow hard under the thin material of his sweatpants.

Cas pulled away as Dean trailed urgent kisses along his full lips.

“Dean...” Cas rasped, his pupils wide with arousal.

“Shhhh..” Dean soothed between kisses. “Shhhh. I've got you.”

Dean captured Cas's lips with his again, groaning low in his throat. As they resumed their gentle pace, Dean shifted his hips, forcing Cas's legs further apart and pushing himself impossibly closer. He ground his hips forcefully against Cas's, and his erection pressed firmly into Cas's thigh, causing him to gasp against Dean's lips.

One hand still carded into Cas's hair, Dean let his other hand trail downwards, sliding down Cas's torso and coming to rest at the waistband of his sweatpants again, barely touching Cas's overheated skin. He began to lift the shirt, his deft fingers pushing the fabric up while he ground his hips relentlessly against Castiel's growing erection. He pulled back momentarily, watching Cas with dark eyes as he peeled the shirt slowly up his torso and over his head, tossing it to the floor. In another quick movement, Dean's shirt was on the floor beside them as well, and they resumed their slow, sweet kisses, their skin to skin contact making it difficult for either of them to focus on much else other than their hard cocks grinding against one another.  
Dean pulled back once more, panting, his eyes wild.

“Cas, lay down, angel.”

Grateful to relieve his shaking legs, Cas sat heavily on the edge of the bed and lowered himself onto the comforter. He laid on his back, his erection jutting out uncomfortably against the fabric of his pants. Dean watched his every movement, his eyes almost black with arousal. He was in control, while somehow simultaneously looking like he was completely at Cas's mercy.

Dean spoke in a husky voice. “Okay, now lift your hips a little.”

Cas did as he was told, and Dean leaned heavily over his torso, sliding his fingers into the waistband of Cas's pants and peeling them slowly down his muscular thighs. He followed every inch of skin he helped to bare, planting wet kisses along his groin. His straining cock sprang free, precome already beading at the head. He gasped at the sensation, the cool air around his heated cock being off-set by the warm kisses Dean trailed down his body. Finally, Cas felt the pants pool around his feet, and Dean's hands were on his thighs, squeezing softly into his flesh.

Dean hesitated, spending extra time sucking a small hickey into the inside of Cas's thigh, making him jerk. He trailed his tongue from there to Cas's pubes, planting more small kisses along the way. When Dean's lips found the base of Cas's shaft, Cas tensed, a gutteral groan escaping from low in his throat.

“Dean...”

“Shhhh...” Dean hushed against his cock. “Let me...”

Dean licked an agonizingly slow stripe up Cas's cock, dipping the tip of his tongue into the small slit at the head and lapping up the bead of precome. Cas gasped loudly, the new sensations overwhelming. When Dean’s beautiful mouth closed over the head of Castiel’s cock, his muscles went rigid, and he involuntarily bucked deeper into Dean’s mouth, his toes curling in tightly.

Dean seemed to expect that though, positioning himself at an angle that allowed Cas some room for movement without choking him. Dean chuckled, the vibration making Cas's head spin. Slowly, Dean inched his way down his length, the warm, wet heat sending sensations through Cas's body he never knew possible. When Dean's nose was buried in Cas's trimmed pubes, he began working into a decent rhythm, humming around Cas's considerable length. Cas bucked again when Dean's tongue trailed over his sensitive head before Dean took his full length once again.

Cas watched in awe as Dean's head bobbed, taking his full cock in his mouth time and time again. His perfect lips were slick with spit and his dark eyelashes flitted as he looked up to watch Castiel. Castiel could feel his face redden at his beautiful husband watching him come undone, and Dean kept the eye contact as he worked Cas's cock deep into his throat. Cas gasped again, grasping handfuls of Dean's hair to steady himself.

Dean continued his rhythm even as he pushed Cas's legs up onto the bed, adjusting them so that his knees were bent and his feet were planted firmly on the comforter. Dean pulled off for a second, on his knees between Castiel's legs, and he forced them apart, watching him with lust-filled eyes.

“So beautiful, angel.” He whispered, running his hands from Cas's knees to the inside of his thighs. “So fucking beautiful...”

Then Dean dipped down, once again taking Cas's length into his mouth. Cas whimpered as he felt the head of his cock in Dean's throat, and he grasped desperately at the sheets around him. Dean snaked his hands around and grabbed Cas's ass, squeezing tightly as he forced him up into the wet heat of his mouth. Cas's hands found Dean's hair again, and with Dean's help, he bucked wildly into the hunter's mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moaned loudly.

Dean pulled off suddenly, a devilish grin gracing his lips. Cas panted wildly, his heart beating out of his chest and his cock throbbing with need.

“D-Dean...I...”

“Shhh, don't worry, Cas. I'm going to take care of you.” Dean winked then stood up and pushed his sweatpants down slowly, never taking his eyes off Cas. His already hard cock sprang free, and Cas stared freely, taking in every twist and turn of Dean's beautifully sculpted body.

Cas’s breath hitched as Dean kissed his way back up his body, starting at his knees and trailing down his thighs. He licked another tantalizing stripe up Cas’s cock before continuing his trail of kisses along Cas’s hipbone and up his torso until he was straddling him completely, his captivating green eyes burning with feral desire. Dean tore his eyes away from Cas’s and dipped down, his lips grazing softly across Cas’s jawline. Cas shivered when their stubble collided, Dean’s breath hot on his neck as he planted soft but urgent kisses along his neck.

Dean shifted and their cocks brushed against one another, causing Cas to gasp and arch slightly off the bed. Dean responded by pressing his lips firmly into the crook of Cas’s neck, sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin. Cas writhed beneath him, the pressure of his erection becoming almost painful, a silent plea for release.

Dean shifted suddenly above him, and Cas tensed when he felt Dean wrap a firm hand around both of their cocks, holding them together. The sensation of Dean’s hand over his straining erection was almost enough to send him over the edge, and he bucked once, biting his lip.

Dean chuckled darkly and stilled his hand, crushing his lips back to Cas’s and plunging his tongue inside. Dean explored Cas’s mouth, tasting him thoroughly and desperately as he slowly began to massage both of their cocks together. He worked his fingers deftly, thumbing at Cas’s slit and spreading precome over both of them. Dean’s hand made a wet sound as it jerked both of them together at a slow pace. The sound was vulgar and delectable, and several times Cas felt like he was going to explode from the combination of assaults on his mouth and cock before Dean expertly gripped them tightly at the base, staving off his orgasm.

It was slow, sweet, exhausting torture.

After he was cut off by Dean for the third time, Cas’s body was literally aching with need, and his natural instincts took over. He bucked hard up into Dean’s hand, causing Dean to pull away from this kiss and give him an amused look.

Cas’s eyes darkened and bore their way into Dean’s, and Dean marveled at how incredibly sexy he was in that moment, his lust-filled eyes almost perfectly mimicking the intensity of his smiting eyes. His kiss-swollen lips were parted as he panted erratically, and his tousled hair clung to the sheen of sweat that blanketed his forehead and torso.

Dean sat back slightly, still gripping the both of them with one hand, and ran his thumb over Cas’s sinfully pink lips. Dean watched in awe as Cas parted his lips further, and he tentatively pushed his thumb into the ex-angel’s mouth, running it along his tongue. His eyes widened with Cas instinctively closed his beautiful lips around his thumb and began to suck, and this time Dean was forced to stave off his own orgasm.

Dean began to move his hand again, faster this time, creating a delicious friction between both of their cocks. Cas felt warmth pooling in his belly as he looked up at Dean with hooded eyes, Dean looking more beautiful than ever looking back down at him as he panted, nearing his release.

They come at the same time, Cas arching against the bed as both of them spill white, hot liquid over Dean's fist. Dean leaned heavily over Cas, sweat beading across his forehead and mouth hanging open, gasping Cas's name.

Dean collapsed on the bed beside Cas and threw his arm and leg over Cas's sweat and come-covered torso, not caring about the mess. He nuzzled Cas's neck, planting a few short, sweet kisses behind his ear.

"I love you, angel."

"I love you too, Dean."


End file.
